Bobby's Boys
by eza.xo
Summary: "Sam could have all the people and all the normal in the world and it wouldn't count for diddly without Dean." Bobby reflects on his boys across the series. Chapter One: Sam. Rated M for some big boy language.


**Bobby's Boys: Sam  
**

Author's Note: So this is my second fic ever! Yaaay! I'm hoping to make it a multichapter spanning across the series, just with Bobby's take on the different things that happen to the boys. It's inspired by this quote from Death's Door: "As fate would have it, I adopted two boys. And they grew up great. They grew up heroes.".

This first chapter is about Sam and is kind of my form of a rant. I always feel like Sam kinda gets bashed a bit as being selfish and things, so this is just my take on the whole thing.

Disclaimer: Sadly, I own only the writing and not the fantastic characters.

Spoilers: None at this stage.

Warnings: Just some language at this stage.

I ain't ever liked anyone overly much, 'cept for Karen of course, and frankly coulda lived the rest of my days huntin' and workin' in the junkyard. Course, life never goes the way you want it to so I probably shouldn't have been surprised when John Winchester swaggered into my life. He was one cranky mother, stomping around like he owned the place and levelling the world with that dangerous stare of his, like he'd cook you right up in your meat suit if you crossed him.

Nearly shot the bastard on sight, and nearly did again many times over the years. He always did know how to push my buttons.

More importantly, Winchester stepped onto my junkyard and into my life, but those boys of his ended up crawling right on under my skin and into the heart I'd thought gone with my sweet Karen.

Little shits.

For a while, they were John's boys, little Winchesters. Perfect copies, in their own ways, of their Daddy and sometimes I used to watch them (and you really did have to _watch _them), despite all my grumblings. Later, though, later they were my boys.

~SN~

I'm not ashamed to admit that Dean was my favourite, and that ain't no fault of Sam's. Course, Sam isn't and never has been a dumb kid, so he knew, probably before I even figured. But I don't figure it ever bothered Sam any; kid never really begrudged Dean anything he needed, and Dean needed to be nurtured so badly it damn well broke my heart sometimes. Sam never went without, though, 'cause he had Dean. Growin' up, Sam was like Dean's little shadow. He was a friendly kid, but shy and for the first year or so I knew him all I ever saw was a pair of them big hazel eyes peekin' past Dean's shoulder.

Kid never liked hunting, the way they moved around a lot, never settin' down roots or being normal. I lost count of how many times John despaired over his youngest' recalcitrance, usually over a bottle of whiskey. He never quite got it, and sometimes I figure even Dean didn't quite get it. Sure, Sam fought and clawed for his "normal", railed against the unfairness of their lifestyle. He bitched up a storm about the training and the way John dismissed the importance of his schoolwork. But damn, the kid still trained and he trained hard. For all that he hated hunting; kid would never put Dean in danger.

See, the thing was, Dean only ever needed John and Sam; he revolved his entire universe around their safety and their happiness. Sam was different; it weren't that he wanted more, because that's not the right word. Sam could have all the people and all the normal in the world and it wouldn't count for diddly without Dean.

I think the kid just wanted to fit somewhere; he wanted to feel like a piece of some grand puzzle, instead of the round peg in the square hole.  
Yeah, whatever, I ain't no poet but I'm sure you catch my drift.  
Hunting wasn't a lifestyle, a choice or even a damn career. It's a damn calling, a _mission_. Even calling it a family business is a damn lie, because you don't _choose _to be a hunter; you're damn well made into it. Supernatural crap sinks its ugly dark into your life and next thing you know you're swimmin' in it.

It happened to John, and it happened to Dean. John lost his wife and Dean lost his mother and his childhood. Sam? Sam lost an idea, because Mary wasn't even a memory to him. His earliest memory of a mother was Dean. Vengeance for Mary was John's mission, which passed down to Dean; they lived for the hunt, for the day they'd get some measure of peace for Mary's death. Sam never shared their passion because he didn't share their loss. Course, John and Dean expected him to feel the same as them, but it ain't really that surprising that Sam was left out in that regard.

Point being is Sam didn't feel like he fit, for all he loved Dean like he was the only thing in the world that ever made sense to him, and maybe he was. So I guess I was the only one who wasn't surprised when Sam left for Stanford.

And I wasn't that surprised when Sam showed up on my doorstep, hoverin' behind Dean's shoulder like he always was growin' up. Kid never could begrudge Dean something he needed, especially not when he needed Dean just as much.

Sam could have all the people and all the normal in the world and it wouldn't count for diddly without Dean.


End file.
